


Atrast tunsha

by ToastyMonkeys



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abandonment, Gen, Leaving Home, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 14:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20547686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToastyMonkeys/pseuds/ToastyMonkeys
Summary: After Origins, before Awakening. His second chance comes to an end.





	Atrast tunsha

He sits across the room from their shared bed, watching the shape of her from under blanket, breathing in, out, moonlight dancing across the blanket and framing her perfectly. 

He didn’t know what he wanted anymore. Not so long ago, holding their babe in his arms, he was sure he was ready for this next stage in his life, ready to settle down. But then he dropped the baby. And then he picked up the bottle again. 

Felsi and him were arguing about his drinking everyday she came back from the tavern, and the baby was crying all the time, and he was so angry and wound up and frustrated-

and _tired. _

He shouldn’t be surprised, he thinks, as he knows he’s destined to ruin everything good in his life. It’s the path he carved out for himself. He keeps dropping his little girl. They both deserve more than a disgraced warrior who can’t keep his hands on his baby or off the handle of a mug of ale. 

Quiet as he can, he takes out a scrap piece of paper, addressed to his child. On the paper, in scratchy handwriting, he writes his own way of saying his _ i love you’s _ and _ sorry’s _ to the baby. He folds it, neat as can be, tucking it into the baby’s arms as she is lost to sleep in her little crib.

He takes out another scrap paper and simply writes, _ I’m sorry, _ and leaves it under the weight of an empty bottle. 

He walks out the door and tries not to look back.


End file.
